The importance of names. And nostalgia.

Names are important, be they the special names used only by members of the family, the names that we assign to certain favourite dishes, or the names given to places. How about this?

“The Gulf of Mexico has been named since the 16th century, when Spanish explorers began to map the region following the arrival of Hernán Cortes in 1519. The term arises because this vast expanse of water was located east of the lands we know today as Mexico, which were then dominated by the Mexican Empire.

Since when is it called the "Gulf of Mexico"?

XVI Century: The name "Gulf of Mexico" appears on maps and historical documents since the first Spanish explorations. European cartographers began to use it to designate this semi-finished basin, because of its proximity to the Mexican territory.

Although there was no Mexico as a country (independent since 1821), the name referred to the Mesoamerican region under Spanish control and linked to the Mexican empire.

It was named before the existence of the United States

The name "Gulf of Mexico" was established long before the formation of the United States in 1776.

During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the area that today includes the states of Texas, Louisiana, Alabama and Florida was part of Spanish and French colonial territories, and had no relation with the future country.

This reinforces that the Gulf of Mexico, both as a geographical region and nomenclature, has historical roots that precede the creation of the United States.

Conclusion

The Gulf of Mexico has carried its name for more than 500 years, long before the United States existed as a nation. This term reflects its historical and geographical connection with Mesoamerican lands, being a denomination that persists since the first maps elaborated by European colonizers.”

Also important are our memories and souvenirs. Extreme weather events such as floods and forest fire (does that count as a weather event? I suppose so as weather conditions make forest fire more likely) destroy the physical mementos.

I read today about a project to help restore the family photos lost by flood survivors. In the days after flash floods killed more that 200 people in Valencia last year, volunteers sifted through wreckage for photos belonging to families who had survived the disaster. Modern technology allows them to restore or partially restore many of the photos, giving comfort to some of the survivors.

We might say that it’s only “stuff” and yet so many of us keep some old object, of no real practical use in our busy modern lives, because it reminds us of some person or event in our earlier life. And when you are faced with an emergency and have to flee your home, how do you decide what to take with you?

Finally, here’s a another poem by Michael Rosen:

Shhhh.

Listen to the silence.

The silence from those 

who remind us regularly

 - quite rightly - 

of women in Afghanistan and Iran.

For some reason

they don't remind us 

of dead women in Gaza.

They don't say

that the dead women in Gaza

are unable to get an education.

They don't say

that the dead women in Gaza

are unable to wear what they want.

They don't say

that the dead women in Gaza

are unable to have their hair 

how they want.

It's almost as if

(to coin a phrase)

dead women don't count.

Shhhh.

Listen to the silence.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Some thoughts about AI.

 Recently we have been hearing quite a lot about AI, artificial intelligence. Artists of all sorts have expressed concern at AI imitating human ability to create music, poetry, pictures. AI generated works of art have been put on sale for huge amounts of money, presumably going into the bank accounts of the AI companies. Actors’ voices can be made to say things the actors never actually said. And, of course, there are the photos which can be manipulated so that it’s hard, if not impossible, to tell which are genuine. Not to mention the drones being used in modern warfare! It’s all rather frightening.

Coincidentally, in the last week or so I have two books where AI goes awry. In Ian McEwan’s “Machines like me”, set in a historically alternative humanoid 1980s Britain, robots, androids I suppose, can be purchased and programmed by their owners. The machines, given personalities, quickly discover how to override the on/off switch. Human - robot relations are inevitably and interestingly affected.

Would such robots adhere to Isaac Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics? 

1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
2. A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

The other book is “The Fear Index” by Robert Harris, a gripping tale of a physicist turned hedge fund manager creates an algorithm to work the stockmarket. Events suggest that someone has dangerously hacked Dr Alex Hoffmann’s computer system but slowly it comes to seem that the algorithm has been talking decisions beyond the realm of stocks and shares. Overriding attempts to shut it down, it changes the screensaver of the hedge fund company to read

THE COMPANY OF THE FUTURE WILL HAVE NO WORKERS

THE COMPANY OF THE FUTURE WILL HAVE NO MANAGERS

THE COMPANY OF THE FUTURE WILL BE A DIGITAL ENTITY

THE COMPANY OF THE FUTURE WILL BE ALIVE

We need to be careful what we wish for and what we meddle with!

We already have media manipulating our view of the world, currently still controlled by human beings. Here’s a link to an article about Trump’s propaganda machine.

Will AI take control of the media? We shall see.

In the meantime …

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Saturday deadlines. Coffee drinking. Going round in circles.

Saturday has arrived. Hamas has released three hostages. Israel has released 300+ palestinian prisoners. Much attention is being paid to the emaciated state of the hostages, although these latest three are described as appearing to be in good health. Nobody seems to have put together the fact that the hostages were held in places where the Israelis were preventing supplies from arriving. Almost as an aside one report said that some of the Palestinian prisoners needed medical attention, but didn’t say why.

And so, after considerable doubt over the last week, the temporary ceasefire has been maintained, shored up for a little longer. Perhaps they can get round to discussing the next phase. 

We shall see.

I was reading about coffee. When I have coffee while out and about I usually order a flat white, or very occasionally and americano with hot milkman the side. Mostly, however, I refer the strength, flavour and texture of the flat white. I know purist Italians would say any kind of coffee with milk should only be drunk in the morning but so far the coffee police have not arrested me. And surely Italy in the centre of the coffee drinking world.

Now it seems that the flat white is no longer what the trendy or discerning  coffee drinker chooses. Instead they choose long black. Both these drinks supposedly originated in Australia. Who knew that Australian was the centre of the coffee drinking world. And surely long black is a translation of the Italian caffè lungo.

According to Wikipedia, 

“Caffè lungo

Lungo, known in full in Italian as caffè lungo, is a coffee beverage made by using an espresso machine to make an Italian-style coffee—short black (a single espresso shot) with more water (generally twice as much), resulting in a larger coffee, a lungo.

And in French the caffè lungo is called café allongé and is popular in the Canadian province of Quebec.”

By the way, what is  thought to be the first British coffee house was opened in Oxford in 1650.  No fancy syrups, just strong, often rather bitter black coffee.

There you go.

The gas meter in Granddaughter Number One’s house has been disturbing their peace by making strange noises. She reported it to her gas supplier, who assured her that if it was just noisy and did nor smell of gas, she was okay. They told her to call the National Grid Emergency Line who would investigate the matter. They in turn told her to contact her regular supplier. There seems to be some circular activity going on there! I’m sure life used to be simpler.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Some Valentine’s Day reflections. Language tests. Homelessness again.

 Since it’s Valentine’s Day, here’s a link to an article about people who “found love” in bookshops.

Some people even proposed in bookshops. I’m always a bit suspicious of photos of proposals. Imagine stage-managing your life to the extent that you have a friend on hand at the moment when you decide to pop the question. And what if the answer is “no”? Do you keep the photo anyway?  Does the relationship continue as if nothing happened?

Valentine’s Day cards are really supposed to be anonymous. In Thomas Hardy’s ‘Far from the Madding Crowd’ Bathsheba Everdene sends one in jest to William Boldwood, with inevitably gloomy consequences, this being  a Thomas Hardy novel. You have to take it as read in a Hardy novel that fate will come and bite you at some point. 

But, of course, nowadays it’s another occasion for card manufacturers to make  bot more money: cads for your boy/girlfriend, fiancé(e), spouse, probably even your dog! Where is true romance? 

Enough of that. Here’s some stuff about that romantic nation, the French. 

“The French government has been accused of making its new language tests for foreigners seeking residency or nationality so hard even its own citizens would fail them.

An impact report on a new immigration law expected to come into force before the end of the year suggested the stricter requirements could lead to 60,000 people being refused permission to remain in  France. 

The tests, which cost around €100 (£83.20), are part of bill passed a year ago, that includes tighter border controls and tougher measures to expel foreign migrants. Ministers argue its primary aim is to promote greater integration of foreigners.”

Here’s a link to the whole article on that subject. 

I wonder if all of us Britons would pass such a language test for use of the English language. Of course, Mr Gove might tell us that’s why our schoolchildren need to learn about and be tested on such things as fronted adverbials and use of the subjunctive! I remember reading something about the test for citizenship and wondering how many of us know enough about our history and culture to pass the test. 

Getting back to the French,, it seems that there has been a 25% rise in the oven chip market in recent years. So much for national pride in the skill of cooking and gastronomy! And not only do theyvlike oven ships but apparently they now prefer chunky English style chips to slender french fries! 

I was under the impression that Belgium was the home of chips rather than France. However Is do remember as a student eating “frites” from street vendors, served with mayonnaise or mustand rather salt and vinegar.

Incidentally, I have now learnt the French for “junk food”:  la malbouffe.

Yesterday I remarked on the removal of the tent village from the centre of Manchester. Manchester authorities are not alone in this. Here’s a report from Wednesday from the USA:

“A northern California city passed a law targeting unhoused people that will ban camping on public property and make “permitting, aiding, [or] abetting” encampments illegal – a provision that has caused worry among non-profits and advocates.

The city council in Fremont, California, adopted the sweeping new ordinance – which has been described as one of the strictest in the state – on Tuesday with Fremont’s mayor arguing such action was necessary to ensure residents’ health and safety in the Bay Area community of 226,000. City officials were insistent that the law would not be used to target aid workers, but declined to clarify that point in the ordinance itself.

The proposal, with its unusual language about aiding and abetting, had attracted considerable attention and condemnation from civil rights groups and community organizations. Nearly 20 such groups signed a letter urging the council to vote against it, describing it as “misguided” and warning it would create “legal liability and devastating humanitarian consequences”.”

And then there are reports of Israel not allowing the entry of mobile homes into Gaza to provide homes for Palestinians returning to the ruins of their former homes. I suppose the thinking behind it is that there is always the risk of temporary homes becoming permanent!

Now, however, it looks as though the first stage of the shaky ceasefire might remain in place after all. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Morning wake-up calls. Dealing with emergencies. 21st century homelessness.

Suddenly it’s Thursday again. Another week rushes towards its close. It’s strange how time works. On Tuesday it still seems that you have almost the whole week ahead of you. Wednesday, which the Germans sensibly call Mittwoch, middle of the week is a sort of high point and then it’s all down hill and before you know it you’re rushing to the weekend.

My alarm rang, I snoozed it. I need to stop doing that and make myself get up that bit earlier and have more of the day. But I will keep,on snoozing the alarm. Today, as I waited for it to remind me to get out of bed, my phone rang. Nobody makes a social call at 8 o’ clock in the morning so what kind of emergency was it this time? It was Granddaughter Number One, calling to tell me her bathroom had just exploded! Her words! Some pipe had perished and, instead of sending water to the shower head, was now spraying hot water around the bathroom. She needed an emergency plumber - no, I am not a plumber - but she had no spare money for such an emergency so please could the bank of Grandma help out? 

Before she called me she had called her father to ask for help locating the tap to turn off the water supply to the house! And I imagined myself in the same situation. It took me a while to remember where our mains supply tap is. It’s time I reacquainted myself with all those things that you only think about in an emergency. Then I need to make a list, a written list to stick up somewhere to remind us what to do in the event of a household emergency. How on earth do people manage when their house is flooded?

At least she has people she can turn to in an emergency. This article tells of the plight of families in parts of Afghanistan, one family living in a mud hut with a plastic roof, having been forced to leave a better home because  of drought. The mother of the family tells how she has sold her two daughters (a common practice apparently, where girls are ‘sold’ into a future marriage even though they still love at home until puberty,’ then they are sent away to marry a stranger) in order to pay medical bills. She has also sold a kidney. This is how some people are living (no, surviving!) in the 21st century. 

Closer to home, in central Manchester, the tents used by homeless people who h ai have mentioned in previous posts is to be removed. 

“A camp of tents being used by homeless people in a city centre must be removed after a council won a crucial court ruling.

Manchester City Council has secured a "possession order" against people living in tents in St Peter's Square next to the town hall, effectively evicting them. 

The "red tent camp" sprang up last spring, initially as a protest, but soon morphed into a long-term spot for homeless people to stay.

A legal challenge from the Greater Manchester Law Centre to stop the council's bid to take possession of the land failed on Tuesday.

The council welcomed the ruling but did not confirm when the tents would be removed.”

21st century living! 

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

To cycle ot not to cycle. The shrinking market. Plastics. Afforable stuff?

 I am guilty of neglecting my trusty bicycle. It was at some point during the pandemic lockdown that I started to use my bicycle, equipped with the rather ancient panniers that Phil used to use when he cycled to work, to go to the open air market in Uppermill on Wednesday mornings. Prior to that I used to jog to the market and catch a bus back. Cycling meant avoiding breathing the possible germ-filled air on public transport. And I carried on cycling for years, apart from days when the rain fell torrentially or it snowed and froze, turning all the bridle paths into ice rinks.

Looking back, I think I was remarkably lucky with the weather, most Wednesdays being fine enough to cycle. This winter though has defeated me. Since some time in December Wednesdays have been wet or icy or windy or foggy - or any combination of those elements - and I have chickened out, put on my warmest raincoat, and walked up the hill to Dobcross and down the other side to Uppermill.

With a supreme effort of will, I have got myself out of the house, over the hill, round the market stalls and the Italian greengrocery in time to catch the 10 o’clock bus home. Well, almost always! Sometimes the schedule has been set back by 15 to 20 minutes and I have had to wait for the 10.30 bus to come along. 

As the days start earlier and finish later now I shall have to work on getting back on my bike. We shall see!

The open air market was looking sadly depleted again this morning. The fishman was back; last week I was told his van had broken down but he was open for business, albeit from a different van. His regular van is adorned with slogans like “Tomorrow’s tea is still in the sea” but this was a plain white van.

The fruit and veg man was there as usual, as was the man who sells slippers and socks and, incongruously, second hand books. Lately he’s also taken to selling bric-a-brac, crockery and ancient small electrical good like cassette player/ recorders, culled from people’s junk-filled garages.

Jenny Biscuit - yes, the lady who runs the cheese and biscuit stall is really called Jenny, but not Biscuit  - was still absent. The Slipper cum car boot sale man is concerned she might not return this year. I am concerned that I have been unable to replenish my supply of gluten-free oat crunch biscuits (useful when my gluten-intolerant brother-in-law comes round) and treacle biscuits - my daughter’s favourite. 

It’s a rather sad situation! There has been a small open-air market on the square for at least 70 years, judging by photos people post on social media, and probably for longer than that. It would be a shame to see it disappear.

 Yesterday I commented on Mr Trump and plastic straws. Here’s a link to an article about how hard it is live without plastic. Even food shopping becomes difficult as so much stuff is plastic-wrapped. Plastic is another of those things that we find extremely useful but which is possibly killing the planet. And not all the plastic is recyclable or even reusable.  Another genie we won’t be able to get back in the bottle!

Skimming the newspapers online this morning I spotted a headline for a fashion article: 12 affordable jewellery brands, worn and rated for style and quality. You have to take such articles with a large pinch of salt. I decided to see what they consider affordable. Answer: a gold bangle for £150; a jade and silver-plated necklace for £115; and lots of similar items. Affordable?  Not really the sort of stuff you might buy on impulse. My jewellery does not come into that range at all but at least nobody is going to mug me to steal it. 

It wasn’t really a “fashion” article as such but part of a series they call “The Filter”, suggesting the best things to buy in certain categories. A recent one was all about equipment needed for making good coffee - the right kind of grinder for your beans and so on. Not on e dod ot mention the trusty Italian-style coffee maker who h we use all the time. So it goes! 

 Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!